


Basic Romantic Syllogism

by librarymontage



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, I just love these two so much, I'm not that much of a film buff so they only really reference movies I know :/, Kissing, M/M, Makeshift Dreamatorium, Miscommunication, Mostly Fluff, Self realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/librarymontage/pseuds/librarymontage
Summary: Troy realizes some things about himself. Abed does a heist homage.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Original Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Basic Romantic Syllogism

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place sometime after Early 21st Century Romanticism but before the end of season 2. Thanks for reading!

Troy has a date. A real date with a real girl who he really kinda likes, he thinks, even though the idea of it’s been freaking him out for an entire week now. Her name is Abigail and Troy probably wouldn’t have picked her for himself but she’s pretty. Abed introduced them a few weeks after the Valentine’s dance because she’s in his Film 202 class and, according to Abed, she likes the same romantic comedies that always make Troy cry in the end. So that’s something, at least. 

Usually, Abed only does things because he wants to but this time Troy has a sneaking suspicion that Abed’s feeling guilty about that thing with the librarian whose name Troy erased from his mind after she called Abed weird. Troy knew this without Abed having to say it, obviously, but Abed has a problem with feeling like a burden to the study group, to Troy specifically, even though that is ridiculous and Troy has told him so a million times before. Honestly Troy hadn’t even liked the librarian that much and it got way less fun to be around her after Abed left, so he kind of did Troy a favor in that respect. But Abed would never say anything about it, just organize things behind the scenes so Troy would be happy and none the wiser to what was really going on with his best friend. Troy had gotten way too good at reading Abed for that to be true but they still went through the motions for old time’s sake. 

Now they’re sitting on the couch in Abed’s dorm. It’s a Sunday night, day two of a full weekend sleepover, so the room is littered with fast-food wrappers and the paper plates Abed only brings out when he has company. The little TV is flickering with Ocean’s Eleven and Abed is staring, unblinking, like he always does when he’s watching something he loves. This weekend’s movie theme is heists, on Abed’s request, and Troy is pretty sure he’d spent the entire week curating the list. Ocean’s Eleven is Troy’s favorite heist movie so it was nice of Abed to let them end on that one. And Abed always said it was Brad Pitt at his best, other than Fight Club, so that might’ve had something to do with it too. 

“Troy?” Abed says suddenly and that’s when Troy realizes he’s been staring at Abed for long enough to be creepy. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I was just zoning out,” Troy says. 

“You’re bouncing your leg a lot more than usual. Are you nervous?” 

“Nervous? For what?” 

Abed shrugs and grabs a handful of popcorn. “Abigail tomorrow.” 

“I’m not nervous, I’ve been on tons of dates. With girls. Tons of girls.” The bravado in Troy’s voice rings even more false in the quiet of Abed’s dorm. “I don’t know. Maybe. You really think she’ll like me?” 

At that, Abed glances away from the screen to look at Troy for a split second. “Of course she will,” he says lightly, attention returned to the TV. “You can watch Bridget Jones’ Diary with her for some reason.” 

“It’s a good movie!” says Troy, already on the verge of tears. 

“It’s not my fault both of you have terrible taste in romcoms.” On screen, the eleven thieves meet up one last time in front of that fountain in Las Vegas and Abed leans forward, his face entirely content. He’s told Troy all the reasons why that shot is one of the best in movie history a million times. As the credits roll, Abed says, “I want to do a heist. We haven’t done a heist movie homage yet.” 

“Yeah,” Troy says. “That would be cool.” 

“Cool cool cool.” Abed clicks the TV off and, for a long moment, they sit in silence surrounded by darkness, a faint glow sneaking in through the blinds from the streetlight outside Abed’s window. Then Abed says, "If things go well with Abigail tomorrow, you could invite her to the post-midterm dance on Friday.” 

Troy says something vague and noncommittal and they make a halfhearted effort to clean up the area around the couch before getting into bed. Abed always lets Troy sleep on the top bunk, which he wouldn’t even let Jeff do. As Troy tries to fall asleep, he forces himself to think about Abigail and the date for tomorrow, forces himself to be excited even though, if he really listens to himself, he knows he would rather just watch TV with Abed. 

\-----

The date goes pretty well, actually. It’s not the most serious of dates— they just get coffee in the cafeteria after Abigail’s last class and walk around campus— but Abigail’s crazy funny and content to talk about the Kickpuncher movies for most of the time. She doesn’t like them so they fought about that for a while, then she asked why he doesn’t just watch Terminator and Troy had to move the conversation along before it became a real fight. Like Abed, Abigail wants to make TV shows but she’s a writer instead of a director. Apparently, she’s already written a few scripts for student films that went to local festivals, which is totally awesome. Her favorite movie is The Princess Bride because her grandma used to put it on when she was sick and now she has a strange love/hate relationship with it and she can’t watch it that often or she’ll remember being sick. She’s cool. The date is cool, even though it doesn't even feel like a date, more like hanging out with a friend Troy’s known forever. Maybe that’s what love is. Or something. Not that he’s in love with her, that would be creepy. 

The date ends when they make it to the far side of campus, closest to the student parking lot. Abigail points out her car, which is actually her mom’s old Volvo that doesn’t work at all, but she named it Sylvia, as in Plath. Abigail’s super smart too but she doesn’t make Troy feel bad about not knowing who any of her favorite authors or screenwriters are. 

“Thanks for this,” Abigail says, raising her now empty cup of coffee. “I had a really good time today.” 

“Me too,” Troy says. “Abed’s usually right about these things.” 

Abigail laughs and points at something over Troy’s shoulder. “Looks like he’s off on one of his side adventures again.” 

Troy turns around to see Abed, dressed in all black, furtively measuring one of the cafeteria’s windows with a tape measure. He tries to ignore the twinge of jealousy in his chest.

“Yep, that’s Abed.” Troy turns back to Abigail and makes a decision. “Hey, if you’re not busy on Friday, would you wanna go to the midterm dance with me?” 

Abigail smiles, pretends to think. “Well, I won’t have any studying to do. Of course I’d like to go with you. See you then.” 

She presses a kiss to Troy’s cheek and walks off towards her car, her long brown hair trailing behind her. Troy wipes the lip gloss residue off his cheek and frowns at the shiny spot where it lingers on his hand. 

“Who was that?” says a voice beside him and, after the initial heart attack shock, Troy sees that it’s Annie materializing next to him. “Oh calm down, it’s just me.” 

“That’s Abigail,” Troy tells her. “She’s in Abed’s film class; he set us up.” 

Annie frowns. “On a date?” 

“Yeah. We’re going to the dance on Friday together too.” 

“Hmm. Okay. Is she nice?” 

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s super pretty and funny and she likes talking about movies too so she’s kind of perfect.” 

Troy might be overselling it, especially when Annie looks from him to Abigail getting into her car and back to him. “Don’t you think she kinda looks like Abed?” 

“What? No.” Abigail has long hair and smiles a lot. Abed has short hair and is taller than Troy. Just because they both have light brown skin and a straight nose and. . . oh, wait. “Wait a second—” 

“Well, it’s okay,” Annie says evenly. “Looks like Abed’s found a date too.” 

She points at the cafeteria windows where Abed and some random girl are bent towards each other, whispering and doing the universal hand signs that mean ‘making a plan’. Which is fine. Whatever. Troy’s not jealous. Abed can do whatever he wants with whatever random girls he wants and Troy has a date with a real girl to a real dance and he really kinda likes her. Even if she does, if you squint, look like Abed. But not that much. Anyway. 

“Are you ready to go?” Annie asks, looking warily from Troy to Abed and that girl and back to Troy. 

Troy sighs, curses his lame old car for needing to be fixed all the time, and follows Annie to her car. 

\-----

“I guess I am nervous for this one,” Troy says as he throws the ball up in the air and catches it before it lands on his face. He’s lying on Abed’s couch, messing around with one of those balls they were giving out in front of the cafeteria— an ad for a local dentist or something— while Abed fiddles with the DVD player. “It feels more serious this time, you know?” 

“Mm-hm.” 

“And I’m worried I’m going to mess it all up again.” 

“You won’t.” 

“Or I’ll say something stupid and she’ll laugh at me.” 

“She wouldn’t do that.” 

“How are you so sure about all this?” 

Abed stands and fixes his full attention on Troy. “I’ve run the simulations. In most of them, the dance goes very well for both of you.” 

Troy frowns. “Most of them?” 

“Well, ruling out things like a meteor strike, zombie apocalypse, or Pierce finding out it’s on Friday and not Saturday, ninety-five percent of circumstances end with the perfect cinematic kiss outside the cafeteria.” 

“That does sound good.” Troy throws the ball in the air again but misjudges where it falls and it whacks him on the forehead. “But what about the other five percent? I wish I could see the simulations too. Maybe I wouldn’t be so nervous if I could just practice a few possibilities.” 

Abed thinks for a moment. “You can. I do all my simulations in my Dreamatorium at home. My dad shouldn’t be there right now so we could do a few of them together.” 

“What the hell is a Dreamatorium?” 

“It’s great, Troy. Put your shoes on.” 

Abed all but hauls Troy to his feet, invigorated by a mission, a purpose. Honestly, Troy has no reason to be stressing, not with Abed by his side. No matter how the date goes, he’ll always have everything he needs right here. 

Abed’s dad’s house is just a couple blocks from the school, which is good because Troy’s car is still in the shop and Abed doesn’t drive, both on principle and because he can’t tell his left from his right. Also the environment and stuff. It’s late Tuesday afternoon so the campus is practically deserted and no one tries to talk to them as they head west down the residential streets that surround Greendale until they get to the Nadir household. Abed lets them in with his spare key and doesn’t offer Troy the grand tour of his childhood home, just keeps his head down, walking quickly, until they get to Abed’s room. 

Or, rather, ex-room. There’s no sign of Abed anywhere, just a bed in the corner and a desk and an empty bookshelf opposite the door. It looks sad. Troy doesn’t like it and he especially doesn’t like Abed’s face while he looks at it. 

“Is this the Dreamatorium?” Troy asks softly. 

Abed brightens immediately and walks to the sliding closet door on the right wall. “No,” he says, “this is.” He pulls the door open and instead of where a normal closet would have been it’s just plain black walls covered with straight lines of masking tape to make little squares across the whole surface. It looks straight out of the low-budget Tron remake Troy and Abed had tried to make over the summer. 

“I guess I’m still confused,” Troy says.

Abed steps into the Dreamatorium and pulls the string that turns on the overhead light. “That’s okay. I know it looks weird but it’s powered by imagination.” 

“It doesn’t look weird, it looks awesome.” Troy steps in too and slides the door closed. “How do we do it?” 

“First I have to calibrate it for another person.” Abed touches a piece of construction paper on the far side of the room that Troy hadn’t noticed before. It’s labeled CONTROL CENTER. “Okay, we should be good. Now for the purposes of this simulation, I’ll be Abigail and you’ll be Troy, but I’ll also be Abed walking you through the best-case scenario for the dance.” 

“Okay, awesome.” Troy closes his eyes for a second and pictures the cafeteria decorated for a dance and, when he opens his eyes, he can imagine it transposed over the little squares as if he and Abed were really transported back to the school. “I’ve got the cafeteria.” 

“Good,” Abed says. “Now, turn me into Abigail.” 

Troy closes his eyes again, pictures Abigail smiling at him in the sunshine, kissing his cheek, but when he opens his eyes, it’s still Abed standing in front of him. He’s watching Troy intently, unblinking, his head tilted just slightly like Troy is the most interesting person on the planet. 

“I can crouch down if you want,” Abed offers. “Abigail is a bit shorter than me.” 

“No, no, that’s okay.” 

“Good. Now, they just switched the song from some pop dance music to a slow song. Abigail says _Can I have this dance_?” Abed says that last bit in his high-pitched girl voice. “And you say. . .” 

Troy falters. Should he be seeing Abigail right now? It’s still just Abed. “I say absolutely.” 

“And then you reach your hand out and she takes it.” Troy does so. Abed’s hand is cool and strong in his own. “Abigail pulls you onto the dance floor. You put your hands on her waist, she puts her hands around your neck. It’s awkward at first,” Abed continues when Troy doesn’t move. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Tentatively, Troy reaches out, places his hands on Abed’s hips. Shit. Okay, he’s dancing with a girl, this is just like prom, it’s no big deal. Abed drapes his arms over Troy’s shoulders like a girl, like Abigail, but it’s enough to make Troy’s brain short circuit. For a second, the cafeteria flickers out and the Dreamatorium reappears. 

Troy must look terrified because Abed immediately says, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable.” 

“No,” Troy says, mouth bone-dry. “I’m okay. What do we do now?” 

“Then you sway, the usual slow dance thing. It’s still a bit awkward and you need to say something to break the tension. Tell her she looks beautiful tonight.” 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Troy tells Abed. 

“Good. And she’ll say _you look handsome_. Then you’ll pull her close to you. Normally it would work better since she’s so much shorter than you but—” 

Maybe Troy’s gone crazy but he doesn’t even hesitate before stepping closer to Abed, his chin slotted perfectly over Abed’s shoulder, close enough to feel the heat radiating from Abed’s cheek. Abed goes still for a moment, then melts into the embrace until it’s more like they’re hugging rather than dancing. Again, Troy tries in vain to replace Abed with Abigail but his brain must be broken or something. But this is good too.

“At this point,” Abed says, “she’ll whisper _I had a really good time tonight, Troy_. And you pull back. . .” 

“I had a really good time, too,” Troy says. He pulls back. Abed looks, uncharacteristically, like he isn’t imagining anything either. The cafeteria is gone, the mission is gone, it’s just masking tape and a bare lightbulb and Troy and Abed looking at each other. 

Then Troy leans in and kisses Abed. Abed’s hand flies to Troy’s cheek, cups his face with a tenderness that makes Troy want to cry, and kisses back, deeper and deeper, and Troy is leaning forward, off-kilter and unable to comprehend exactly what he’s doing but it feels so right, like he was only crazy for not doing this earlier. 

Abed pulls away first, with a tight smile on his face. “Perfect. A little off-script towards the end there but that’s the ideal scenario. I’m not sure my simulation of Abigail is entirely error-free but that’s about what you should expect at the dance.” 

“Wait, what?” 

Abed extricates himself from Troy’s arms and touches a few buttons on the control panel. “Stop simulation. How do you feel?” 

“Fine,” Troy says. “But, Abed, what—” 

“Your first time in the Dreamatorium can be disorienting,” Abed interrupts. He isn’t looking at Troy and seems to be making a point to stand out of arm’s reach, fidgeting with the sleeve of his flannel. A heavy sludge settles in Troy’s stomach and he bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t cry. “Maybe we should go back to the dorm and watch a movie. Or maybe you should call Pierce to pick you up.” 

No, no, no, this wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Troy feels empty and cold without Abed’s warmth in his arms, robbed of something he didn’t have the chance to understand, and if Abed was mad about something it could be weeks before Troy even knows what it is. 

“Maybe,” Troy manages around the lump in his throat, “maybe we just watch Kickpuncher in your room.” 

Abed makes a finger gun and points it at Troy with a pleased _pew pew_. “Abigail doesn’t like Kickpuncher, you know,” he says when they’re out on the sidewalk again, a safe and removed middle ground. 

“I know,” Troy says gravely. “There’s definitely something wrong with her.” 

\-----

Abed’s a little off for the next few days. In a different way than usual, like he’s avoiding Troy somehow. The rest of the study group picks up on it too when he doesn’t show up to their usual study session on Wednesday or doesn’t sit with the group at lunch on Thursday. He’s started wearing all black, sometimes with gloves and a clunky utility belt, always with a sneaky look on his face, ducking around corners and behind potted plants whenever he thinks he’s been spotted. Normally Troy would be all over this heist thing but it feels like Abed doesn’t even want him around. 

Troy tries not to worry. Tuesday was weird, that was obvious, and Troy shouldn’t have gone that far. He’d probably made Abed uncomfortable, crossed all of the lines Troy had promised not to cross, screwed up irreversibly, and ruined the best thing in his life. But the kiss. . . Troy just can’t stop thinking about it. When he’s in class or doing homework or hanging with the study group, when he’s supposed to be focusing on literally anything else, his mind keeps circling back to his lips on Abed’s, Abed’s hand on his cheek, everything close and warm and perfect. Not that it means anything. Troy’s not gay or anything. Right? Girls, he likes girls. And Clive Owen. And Brad Pitt in Ocean’s Eleven, in Fight Club. And—

Okay, Troy really can’t be thinking about this right now, not while he’s supposed to be finding Abigail in this strobe-lit maze of a dance. He’d driven to school with Annie and Shirley and Britta after spending, like, three hours getting ready in Britta’s house but everyone’s off doing their own thing now. Britta and Jeff look to be embroiled in another fight/contest/sexual tension fest; Annie and Shirley are dancing to the sugary pop music playing over the speakers while simultaneously trying to fix the decorations that are peeling off the walls. Troy still wasn’t sure what a ‘post-midterm dance’ was supposed to be and it looked like the dean didn’t know either. Where was Abed? Troy hasn’t seen him all night. He wouldn’t have ditched the dance without telling anyone, that wasn’t like him. Troy tries to swallow the lump of worry that is stuck in his throat but he is going to choke on it if he doesn’t find Abed soon. 

“Hey stranger!” says a voice to Troy’s left. He turns and it’s Abigail, looking bouncy and pretty in a short blue dress, her hair pulled up in soft ringlets around her neck. 

“Hi,” Troy says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. “I was looking for you. Did you just get here?” 

“Yeah, sorry. My brother was driving me and he’s always late.” 

Troy is trying to pay attention, he really is, but over Abigail’s shoulder, he sees Abed at the punch table. “Cool, cool. Why don’t I get us some drinks.” 

Abigail blinks. “Uh, okay.” 

Troy doesn’t have time to feel bad about it. He makes a beeline for Abed, weaving around dancing couples and the little tables the dean always brings out for dances. He can hear Jeff and Britta yelling at each other from across the room. 

“Abed!” he says as soon as he’s close enough to the table for Abed to hear him. 

Abed looks around, spots Troy, and says into his earpiece, “I’ve been compromised.” 

“What’s going on? What are you doing?” 

“I’m doing the heist. I thought I told you about it.” Abed points across the room to the DJ’s desk thing where the girl Abed was talking to the other day is crouched over a laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard like every hacker in the movies. “That’s Chris. Ocean’s Eleven is her favorite movie and she’s acting as my HQ.” 

It probably would have hurt less if Abed had just stabbed him. They never did movie homages without each other; that just wasn’t how these things worked. Abed won’t even look at Troy. His face is blanker than usual, the carefully constructed mask Troy knows Abed puts on when he doesn’t know how to deal with a situation or when he’s uncomfortable. He’s never done it around Troy. 

“Abed, wait,” Troy says. “What is—” 

“Sorry, Troy, I’ve gotta go.” 

And then Abed does a graceful somersault under the table and comes out the other side whispering into his earpiece. He slides against the wall, looks around like he’s expecting an attack, and slides into one of the darker corners of the dance until Troy can hardly tell him apart from the shadows. 

Troy curses under his breath. A heist movie homage would’ve been way more fun than this stupid dance. Why does everything have to be so unfair? 

While he was talking to Abed, Jeff and Britta drifted closer to the punch table, still yelling and obviously hammered. “Troy!” Jeff calls even though they’re practically right next to each other. “Quit fooling around with Abed; you’re striking out over there.” 

Britta snort-laughs and points over to Abigail, swaying alone by one of the little tables, watching the dancing couples with a sad look on her face. Now Troy feels bad. And mad. Why did Abed have to get like this all the time? Why can’t he just let Troy be his own person without having to worry about what Abed was doing all the time? Why can’t he just talk things out like best friends? 

So Troy makes up his mind not to think about Abed anymore, to dance with Abigail and have a Perfect Cinematic Kiss and do something just for himself for once. Jeff gives him a playful punch on the shoulder as he walks past and an approving glance at Abigail, then goes back to arguing with Britta. Troy apologizes to Abigail and gives her the only cup of punch he remembered to get and asks her about her favorite screenplays just so he doesn’t have to say anything. 

It works for a while. Like Abed, Abigail can talk about her favorite movies for hours uninterrupted and Troy tries to pay attention— he really does— but his mind is working on overtime despite his best efforts to shut it down, piecing slotting into place, little things from his childhood now making so much more sense: feeling jealous of the girl characters for ending up with the leading guys instead of the other way around, forcing himself to keep his eyes down in the locker room after football practice, feeling like he had to hide what he was watching when he wanted to cry to Brokeback Mountain for the millionth time. How right it felt to kiss Abed, even if Abed didn’t feel the same. Even if Abed’s off on the other side of the cafeteria with some random girl, whispering way too close to her ear, doing a heist that probably isn’t even that much fun. God, Troy hates self-realization. 

“Troy?” Abigail says, waving her hand in front of Troy’s face. “Are you okay? I’ve said your name, like, twenty times now.” 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” The song playing from the overhead speakers switches from a cheesy pop ballad to a slow song and couples rush onto the dancefloor. It’s time. Troy grabs Abigail's hand and says, “Hey, we should dance.” 

Abigail lets herself be led onto the dancefloor but her face isn’t entirely convinced. Troy knows he’s going off-script but if Abed can have his own little side adventures, Troy can definitely get through his own A plot without relying on anyone else. 

It starts off just as Abed predicted. Abigail drapes her arms around Troy’s neck and Troy places his hands on her hips. The material of her dress is slick against his hands and she’s colder than Abed was. A strange feeling of deja vu settles over Troy, making the entire situation feel even more wrong. Maybe this was a terrible idea, actually. Even Abigail looks uncomfortable as they shuffle in a tight circle, holding each other at arm’s length and looking anywhere except each other. 

“So,” Abigail says eventually. “You and Abed are good friends, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Troy says, grateful. This is something he can talk about. “Abed’s the best. He’s the smartest, nicest, coolest guy I’ve ever met.” 

“I was honestly surprised when he set up our date. I thought you two. . .” She trails off, bobs her head a little. The meaning is clear. “You know. Swung the other way.” Troy must look put out because she hurries to add, “Which is totally fine. It’s better to be yourself now than to keep forcing yourself into relationships that don’t work for you.” 

Her voice is pointed, like she’s trying to tell him something, but Troy loses his ability to focus on the conversation when he sees Abed over Abigail’s shoulder, staring at them with the most emotion Troy has ever seen on his face. He’s completely still, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, eyebrows knit together like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he catches Troy’s eye, turns on his heel, and disappears out the doors. Troy can feel his heart break in two, yet again. 

Abigail had gone silent, watching his face. “Troy,” she says. “I can see what’s going on here, even if you can’t. I don’t know why Abed set us up but you should probably go talk to him about it because it’s obviously not me you’re into.” 

Troy wants to hit himself for being such an idiot. “Abigail, I’m so sorry. This totally isn’t fair to you and I really like you as a friend and—” 

“I get it, Troy.” She smiles so sweetly that Troy almost starts crying and leans forward to kiss his cheek. “Now go to him.” 

“We need to watch Bridget Jones’s Diary together sometime,” Troy tells her before he rushes towards the cafeteria doors, out into the hallway, chasing after Abed, hoping against hope that he’ll still be here, that they haven’t waited too long to save what could be between them. 

And there he is, stalking down the sidewalk towards the parking lot, still close enough to hear Troy yell, “Abed! Abed, stop!” He turns and watches Troy run down the stairs to the sidewalk, leaving a few yards between them. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing,” Abed says. “Why aren’t you with Abigail?” 

“Why aren’t you with Chris? And why have you been acting so pissy lately?” 

Abed pauses, cocks his head. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me after what happened in the Dreamatorium.” 

“No, what happened was my fault. I went off script and obviously crossed your boundaries and I’m really sorry but I miss you so much, I can’t live with you being mad at me.” 

“I’m not mad at you,” Abed says slowly, trying to understand. “And it was my fault. I told you I was being Abigail in the simulation but I couldn’t make it work so I was just me, kissing you, which wasn’t what we agreed on. I violated the rules of the Dreamatorium. I’m sorry.” 

Troy almost laughs; it comes out breathy and choked with tears. “It wasn’t working for me either; I couldn’t make you look like Abigail. I was just me, kissing you.” 

“Oh.” Abed looks at the ground, then back at Troy. “Is this the reconciliation moment? If it was raining it would be perfect.” 

“This is Colorado, it never rains here.” Okay, Troy’s definitely crying now. Around his tears, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” 

Abed doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” 

And then Troy is crossing the barrier between them, all but throwing himself into Abed’s outstretched arms, pressing their lips together and it’s wet and messy and they’re both laughing into it but somehow it’s the best kiss Troy has ever had. It’s even better than the Dreamatorium, even better to know that Abed wants him too, just as Troy and Abed and no one else. It’s the best feeling Troy can remember. 

“I didn’t think you liked guys,” Abed whispers when they break apart to breathe. 

“I didn’t think I did either,” Troy replies. “Well, I didn’t want to admit it to myself. Even now, I don’t know. . . But I like you. A lot. I think I always have.” 

“I know I have. I first invited you to the study group because I thought you were hot.” 

Abed says this with such a straight face that Troy can’t help but laugh. Abed cracks a smile and leans forward until their foreheads are resting against each other and Troy is crying all over again. And then, with no warning besides a click and a hiss, the sprinkler system for the green turns on and, for one glorious second, it’s as if the sky has answered their wish for rain. 

“The Perfect Cinematic Kiss,” they say at the same time and lean forward to complete the scene.


End file.
